


Snuff

by Piinutbutter



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Burns, Cigars, Hair Kink, M/M, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piinutbutter/pseuds/Piinutbutter
Summary: There's something about Peking's prim composure that makes Buddha want to see him fall apart.





	Snuff

The back rooms of the pawn shop were always filled with smoke. Between Peking Duck and Yuxiang alone, their pipes ensured that the air would never be completely clear. Peking made sure to keep an open pond area with fresh air for his children to play, but beyond that, anyone setting foot in the shop could learn to deal with the scent of tobacco. The addition of a single cigar being lit in Peking’s bedroom along with his usual nightly smoke made no difference.

“I’m surprised,” Peking admitted, pulling away from the lighter of the lighter that Buddha’s Temptation had provided. “You never struck me as the pleasure-seeking type. I thought you were above all that.”

Buddha raised an eyebrow, leaning back and taking a drag off his cigar. “This is simple pleasure to you? To me, it’s business.” He gestured to Peking’s pipe, filled with tobacco that Buddha had shared with him after Plum Juice’s cruel severing of their tobacco funds. “Provide something, receive something in return.”

Peking turned a dour gaze on his guest. “Am I to understand that I’m trading my time and body for a smoke? That exchange seems a bit uneven, if you ask me.”

Buddha smiled, mischief hiding behind the glow of his cigar. “Uneven? Have more self-respect, my good man. You’re worth at least one pinch of tobacco. Maybe two.”

Peking wasn’t amused.

After a moment, Buddha sighed, shifting on his host’s bed. “Alright, then. I’ll adjust the terms of the deal. As payment for the tobacco, you’ll do one small favor for me. Anything we do after that? Off the record and out of the contract.”

Peking took a long drag from his pipe. “And this ‘small favor’ is...?”

Buddha reached behind them, his hand trailing down Peking’s back and stopping at the base of his spine. He lifted Peking’s long, heavy braid, its tip between his fingers. “Let your hair down. I want to see you unkempt, for once.”

Peking opened his mouth and said nothing. It would have been a reasonable request, to most. Peking, though, valued his composed appearance. Not even Yuxiang had seen him with his braid undone, in all the years they’d spent together. His master...once, perhaps. Upon his summoning. How long ago that had been.

“No,” Peking said, flat.

Buddha _hmph_ ed, letting the silky brown hair slip from his fingers. “Alright. You realize, however, this means we’ll have to come up with another form of payment.”

“I’m sure you can think of something,” Peking said. He let his head fall back to savor another drag. The movement caught Buddha’s eye. He stared at the small scrap of exposed skin above Peking’s collar, the wheels in his mind turning. The man looked so damn modest - nigh holy, with all those prayer beads - yet Buddha knew his past was laden with sin.

“You’re right. I can.” Buddha shifted closer, his fingers coming to rest on the woven clasp of Peking’s collar. “May I?”

Peking hummed his permission, opening up his body to let his companion close the distance between them. Buddha undid the clasps of Peking’s shirt, tugging the elaborate garment down so it hung off his shoulders. 

“I thought this part was off the record,” Peking muttered, a pleased smile spreading across his face as Buddha’s lips and teeth traced across his neck.

“We haven’t gotten to the favor yet,” Buddha replied. His free hand returned to Peking’s hair. He wrapped the braid around his fist several times, until he could yank Peking’s head back with little effort, exposing the pale and unmarked expanse of his throat. 

Buddha’s cigar still burned away in his other hand. He brought it to his lips and took a deep drag. Peking seemed to guess his intention, because the man opened his mouth with an eager glint in his eye. Buddha didn’t quite kiss him; their lips didn’t touch. But they were as close as they needed to be for Buddha to breathe the smoke into Peking’s lungs. 

Peking’s eyelids fluttered close, a contented little moan falling from his lips.

The timing was perfect. As Peking grew pliant beneath him, Buddha shoved the cigar's tip against his skin, just above a collarbone. 

Peking’s eyes were wide open in an instant. A yelp of shock escaped him, and he jerked in Buddha’s grip, trying to pry himself away from the sudden pain. But Buddha’s hold on his hair was firm, and Buddha’s knees pinned his thighs to the bed. Peking cursed as the cigar was held against his throat, the burning tip ground into his skin. He needed to leave a mark.

God, but Buddha loved the furious look Peking turned on him. There was nothing composed about it.

“Release me,” Peking demanded, his voice hoarse with anger and maybe a few lingering traces of his earlier arousal.

Buddha leaned in and murmured against his ear. “I thought you liked fire?” 

There was a moment where the only sound was Peking’s harsh breathing. Then it was Buddha’s turn to feel a threatening hand on his neck. 

“Get out,” Peking hissed, his voice a weapon in itself. “Get off of me and get _out.”_

As he cooled his heels outside with Peking’s adopted ‘children,’ Buddha’s Temptation had to admit to himself that perhaps he’d gone a little too far this time.

**Author's Note:**

> Totally not writing this to cope with the fact that I put out big time for Spring Feast in hopes of bringing Butter Tea home, and instead this cigar-smoking little shit decided to show up three times.


End file.
